


Down Down the Seventeenth Rabbit Hole

by tehsoupie (TheSoup)



Series: Cracked Verse [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, Angry Sex, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Community: rvb_slash, Hate Sex, Humor, M/M, Meta, Multi, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Parody, Reconstruction Fic, Satire, Suicide, TW: Suicide, character is aware we write fan fic of them, church!slut, crackfic, cringe here, did I mention this was crack, extremely au, get your cringe here, sex with an A.I.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-26
Updated: 2009-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoup/pseuds/tehsoupie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Church is the internet and Simmons is the only computer guy around, why is Simmons the only one who isn't using Church? In any way?  Takes place sometime after Recon. Originally posted on rvb_slash on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is INTENTIONAL. Redunancy and stating the obvious are for humorous purposes. The overall style is very much like Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughter-House Five, with time skips and non-linear story telling abound. There might be slight OCC-ness, but the parody card lets me get away with that... ;-D The title comes from Reconstruction Chapter 17 and Alice in Wonderland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2009: I can't believe how long this fic is. It was supposed to be a Wash/Church dilly-o, but nooooo I had to make things a lot more long and complicated. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> 2016: FUCKING CHRIST THIS SHIT IS FROM 2009 but I needed to bring it over to here for peace of mind, soo.... I'm sorry.

_I have an almost religious zeal - not for technology per se, but for the Internet which is for me, the nervous system of mother Earth, which I see as a living creature, linking up._  
 ~Dan Millman  
  
 --  
  
“ **S** immons, you done yet? I wanna check my e-mail,” Tucker said. It didn’t matter that he was in the Red Base – none of that mattered lately since Church’s true identity was revealed to everyone in the valley. “I need to see if my girlfriend replied to our role-play yet. It was getting really hot in her text, and I think I might be getting cyber-laid as soon as I can write her back.”  
  
 “No, I’m not done yet… Jesus, you’ve got his system files all fucked up because you watch too much porn. I don’t think you should ever touch him again – he’s all sticky….” Simmons tweaked one last thing, and closed up the case. “There, I cleaned out all your viruses, finished the diagnostics, defragged, cleaned out your Temporary Internet Files folder, dumped the Recycling Bin, killed a bunch of Spyware, and made sure your fire walls are still working all right.”

“Finally!” Tucker chirped. “It’s my turn! I haven’t used you since last week! I need to get my fix. I’m having withdrawals.”

“I know that Tucker.” What Simmons had been fixing was Church, who had discovered that, since he was a computer, he had the capability to BE The Internet, and therefore, a god of sorts to thousands and thousands of collective losers who had nothing better to do day in and day out.

Church turned around, facing his teammate. “But I’m not letting you wank off until later tonight. Other people want to use me, and I’m perfectly fine with that….what, with everyone depending on me and constantly worshipping me. It’s a nice change of things. Now if you’ll excuse me, Caboose wanted to look up photo galleries of cute puppies dressed up in adorable Halloween costumes.”

Within seconds, the Blue leader was gone. Blinked out, just as quickly as he had popped up in front of Simmons and demanded that he be fixed immediately.

“Man, this fucking sucks,” Tucker whined. “I’m freaking horny, and Church is the only way I’ll ever see any more of that European fart fetish stuff – uh, I mean, YouTube.” Having embarrassed himself revealing something that only he and Church knew about, Tucker left in a panic.  
  
Now alone, Simmons rolled his eyes; it was an empty gesture, but nothing else mattered, ever since Church was found out to be The Internet—in essence. The man who was not really a man was servicing himself out like a digital prostitute, completely fine with the constant needs of the Reds and Blues wanting to check certain sites, look up information, surf the Web, and of course, watch hours and hours of porn. But since Church was a whore, and nobody else in the valley really had much technical training, he had been coming to Simmons for getting rid of the viruses and many other nasty things his new role had infected him with. A few of those viruses had become mutations of real-life STDS – apparently Church had been whoring himself out in more ways than one ( _PleasureSoldier 1300_?) – and Simmons now had Doc on speed-dial, if the medic wasn’t already standing next to him during the GeekSquad gatherings.

****

*** * ***

A recent maintenance session on the roof of the Red Base went like this:  
  
“What the fuck? This doesn’t seem physically possible… How the – Church, did you know you have a _digital_ strand of Gonorrhea?”

“Yeah, I don’t even know how that happened,” Church said. “At least it doesn’t burn when I pee. I’m a god, and gods, well, don’t do that. The Internet doesn’t have a bladder last time I checked….”

Simmons sighed heavily, and then took a closer look. “Church, you’ve got so many fucking Trojans in you.”

“Blame Wash for that. That bastard can’t get enough of me, and once he’s finished, he just lets them hang out for a bit, since it’s not really going to hurt me and he’s too lazy to take it off, tie it in a knot so that it doesn’t leak all over the place, and throw it out,” Church said completely non-chalant. “It’s easier this way, anyways. Not like I care.”

Simmons knew Church was just giving Agent Washington a hard time since he wasn’t there to argue against the allegations. “Sounds like you’ve got a really bad boyfriend if that’s actually true… and I wasn’t talking about condoms, you damn Blue....” Simmons grumbled, trying to tinker around without getting infected himself. “…God, this is terrible.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Church, you’re not God,” said Simmons. “Just because you’re a super-powerful computer with infinite access to the Internet and Internet-based applications at all times, and you seem to know everything the Internet knows and you have spying capabilities, it does not make you a deity.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, mortal, and fix me already!” Doc was standing next to Simmons, obviously awkward. “Um, Church, you really shouldn’t leave used prophylactics in place after sexual intercourse. I don’t know the long term effects of doing something like that, but the chemicals might invade your blood stream and harm your internal systems.”

Simmons gave Doc a weird look. “While I appreciate that you’re actually demonstrating some medical concern for Church, it’s not really doing much for him just rattling off how he shouldn’t leave latex wedged in his copper rectum,” he said. “How about you tell me how to get rid of his Gonorrhea?”

“Um, well… he’s a computer, right? And this Gonorrhea isn’t really Gonorrhea, is it?”

“Well, if it wasn’t Gonorrhea, I don’t think we’d be calling it that, now would we?” Church remarked.

Doc was slightly floored, but he tried his best to work out the solution. “This is a digital STD, meaning, it’s existing inside his computer parts, right?”

“I… guess.” Simmons wasn’t really sure. “I’ll say it again: This doesn’t seem physically possible.”

Church just shrugged.

“If a normal person gets Gonorrhea, I’d usually just give them a shot and antibiotics. STDs happen in the army a lot more than you’d think,” Doc said. “But since Church here isn’t human, can’t you just – I dunno – delete it?”

Simmons said, “I’d have to find the source file that’s infected and clean out the infection, yeah, but… what about the physical symptoms? Can deleting the file really help his health?”

“What symptoms do you have?” This was addressed at Church. “Ummm, well, it’s weird. I know something’s wrong because I have a yellowish-whiteish-greenish discharge, butt itching, and swollen testicles.”

“Whoa, wait a second!” Simmons was seriously freaking out. “Since when do computer have testicles?”

“I’m also God,” Church stated as-a-matter-of-fact.

“But gods don’t get STDs! I never heard of Zeus getting Gonorrhea, and that was one horny deity,” Grif said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “What’s wrong with him now? I really wanna check my on-line standings and see if I’m still number one on the Cosmopolitan Magazine Sexy-Time Bachelor Vote-Off.”

Simmons glared at Grif, this time an empty facial expression since his little teammate wouldn’t be able to see it anyways. “Why are you reading Cosmo? I thought that was Donut’s kind of crap.”

“It is, but I wanted to enter the contest just to see if I’m sexy enough to win.”

“You’re not,” Church said. “I just looked at your standings, you went from number one to number fifteen in the past forty-votes. Sorry pal. I, however, submitted a photo of myself out of armor, and I’m not sorry to tell you, but those past forty-votes have all been for me.” He gave a mock laugh. “Ha, now the world can see how truly devastatingly handsome the face of God is!”

Simmons was grumbling to himself again as he brought up the interface and began looking through Church’s file directories.

Meanwhile, Grif was stunned to hear Church’s previous statement.

“I don’t get it. How can God’s face be handsome if nobody’s ever seen it? The Bible stuff always said that any mortal would die just by looking at the guy because He’s so glorious, but I’d bet my eternal not-soul God is one ugly ass motherfucker. Besides,” he said. “I’ve looked at you plenty of times without a helmet, and I didn’t burst in to flames. Hell, I’ve seen you naked and as you can tell, I currently have not been a victim of spontaneous combustion from your oh-so-gloriousness.”

“What the fuck!?” Simmons tapped a key too hard and accidentally sent a jolt whipping through Church’s systems, making the Blue curse loudly. “Grif, you’re not saying…you’ve slept with a Blue, are you?”

Grif shrugged. “Eh, it’s not as bad as you think. He’s actually quite good, although disease ridden.”

“Hey, that’s only when my firewalls have been down for too long. Sex isn’t as safe without a firewall,” Church said. “And Simmons here is working on that, and once he’s done, we can pick up right where we left off.”

“No, you’re not.” Simmons stood with his hands firmly placed on his hip bones, or at least, where his hip bones would be if he wasn’t wearing armor. “I’m done with this. I don’t support a computer whoring itself around just because The Internet makes it a horny entity.”

“Ha! You said deity, so then I really am a god!”

“Fucking …- No, Church, I said entity. They’re two totally different things.”

Grif looked from Church, to Simmons, to Doc for no apparent reason, and then back at Simmons. “So lemme get this straight… Because The Internet is all-knowing and everywhere, and God is also all-knowing and everywhere, and Church is The Internet, then….” It hit him hard – “Holy shit! You really are God! That’s fucked up, dude, but it makes total sense.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him that, but Simmons just isn’t getting it,” Church said, flexing his hand to make sure everything was still connected properly to it because he’d be needing it later on that evening.

“How’d the fuck did God become a Private in the army? If He’s God, then why aren’t you like a Commandant or five-star general or something equally as powerful and all that crap?” Grif had a point.

Church could see that. “…It doesn’t – it doesn’t fucking matter! I still outrank you! I’m God, dammit – _goddamit_ …”

Simmons was getting fed up with this. “For the love of—” He really didn’t want to bring god up in this, so he tried another word: “Jesus–” It wasn’t working. “Goddamit…” He sighed, shoulders sloping forward. “I can’t seem to properly express myself without bringing some sort of biblical reference…Fuck.” Another deep sigh, which really wasn’t doing much because he was still Simmons 2.0, and Grif had his lungs. “Get back over here. Sarge’ll probably complain that he made that more computerized body of yours for nothing, and that I should be poisoned for cutting him off from downloading tap-dancing and salsa apps for Lopez.” Another completely useless sigh. “I really don’t want to do this, but I know something worse is going to happen if I don’t fix this….” he said.

“That’s right, you fucking mortal. You have no other choice but to fix me, so why don’t you stop your bitching, Nancy, and just do it?”

“…Stop calling me a mortal,” Simmons said. “It’s what you are,” Church said. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m God.” Simmons actually wasn’t completely mortal anymore. The cyborg parts made it hard to be human. The cyborg parts did make it easier for Simmons to work on Church, though, because he knew his way around robotic anatomy. Grif could tell ya all about Simmons’ robotic parts.

Grif could also tell ya that while he’s a lazy bastard that doesn’t give a shit, he was also _really really_ impatient. “Hurry the fuck up already, Simmons. I need to order another shipment of liquor. I’m almost out, and you’re taking too long ordering the supplies.”

“So that’s how you ended up sleeping with Church.” Simmons was obviously pissed about something, but nobody really cared as long as he got The Internet back on. “You’re a fucking lush, Grif.”

“Actually, the alcohol had nothing to do with it,” Grif told him. “We drank a bit, fucked, and then drank some more. I was perfectly sober when I fucked him.”

“And I was perfectly sober when I fucked him!” Church piped in indignantly for no good nor reasonable reason.

“Ah, I don’t think it’s really safe for you guys to be having so much anal sex,” Doc finally spoke up, after remaining silently disturbed for a while, which was pretty much the entire time they were on the roof doing stuff with things and Blues. “Church has been experiencing some anal itching, and that’s a major sign of some sort of STI.”

“STI? What the fuck is that? Doc, I told you my ass was itching.” Church cocked his head to the left so that Simmons could reach inside and twiddle something vital to his operation. “I did not say it was ‘anal’ itching. I specifically recall not saying anything about anal, unless we were discussing Grif’s sexy ass and how much we like fucking each other. Which is a lot. A lot. Did I stress that enough or do you want me to repeat myself?”

Doc was severely uncomfortable. “Um, anal sex will only spread the infection further and as far as I know, you might want to avoid that.”

“Dude, for fuck’s sake, it’s digital Gonorrhea, and I’m the only computer around, so everyone I fuck in the real world is safe… -Ow, Simmons, that’s fucking hurting! What the hell are you doing, you fucking sadist?!”

“There, doesn’t matter. I’m done anyways. I deleted the file, replaced the driver with a clean version, and backed up your system on my thumb drive.” Simmons turned away from everybody else, pocketing his little memory stick in a pocket that wasn’t really a pocket and more like storage compartment in the side of his armpit. “I don’t care what happens next. Just don’t come to me when viruses start eating you from inside out. You’re on your own, asshole,” he said.

All the others on the roof turned around slowly and watched as the disgruntled Simmons walked away from the stressful situation to blissfully ignore everything in general.

“Fucking infidel…heathen…bastard. Whatever,” Church said. “Screw him.” He turned to all the others in a snappy movement. “Now who’s gonna play with me first?”

“Oh, me me me me!” Grif was practically bouncing around. “I’ll go get the vodka!”

Church turned his attention to the medic. “You wanna join us?”

“Oh, no. I keep my body pure of all containments such as alcohol and orgies… It’s the Zen way of living,” Doc said. “The idea of it is to cleanse yourself of all impurities and forsake materialistic and carnal desires… like drunken butt-sex! You really should try it sometime. The…the cleansing part, not the butt-sex.”

“Thanks, dude, but no thanks. Drunken butt-sex is too good to give up for enlightenment and minerva and all that eternal life shit,” Church said. “Besides, I’m fucking Jewish, and I can’t be pure anyways, so why even try it? I’m The Fucking Internet.”

“Yep, and I’m fucking the Internet! Heh, see what I did there?” Grif said. “I’m clever as fuck.” He actually seemed really proud of himself.

Church turned to the Red guy. “Oh yeah, yeah, you’re so fucking clever taking the same thing I said just too seconds ago, and not only switching my words around, but changing the goddamm emphasis just to make a joke,” he said. “Real fucking clever. Took you hours to think of that one, I’m sure.”

Grif merely stared then shrugged because as usual, he didn’t give a damn.

“All righty, then. You guys have fun destroying what’s left of your livers and colons,” Doc said, perking up and walking away. “My Third Eye feels polluted. I’ma go cleanse myself of all the horrible mental images I’ve been imagining for the past five minutes! Toodles!”  
****

**~*~**

****

****


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2009: Note about this story: Everything is INTENTIONAL. Redunancy and stating the obvious are for humorous purposes. The overall style is very much like Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughter-House Five, with time skips and non-linear story telling abound. There might be slight OCC-ness, but the parody card lets me get away with that... ;-D The title comes from Reconstruction Chapter 17 and Alice in Wonderland.
> 
>  
> 
> 2015: Just posting the chapters straight from my LiveJournal, with a few minor edits. Continues to be unBeta'd. This fic was originally four parts on the rvb_slash community, during the Recon arch. From now on I'm just transferring everything directly here. 
> 
> Once again, it was all my first time writing for this fandom, but with the finale and all I thought I could dig up my few contributions to it all. DDTSRH started off my Cracked Verse, and I have a few more things I plan to post. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

* * *

**T** here was no longer Red versus Blue. There was only, “Give me the fucking Internet before I murder you in your fucking sleep, motherfucker!”

It wasn’t peaceful. Fuck no. Far from it. There was just less shooting and less blood, but there was still shooting, copious amounts of cursing, and frustrating situations that made life a lot more sucktacular than normal. 

Which was normal for Simmons.

Since Church realized his destiny as a portal to the World Wide Web, the valley had become more corrupted than tolerable. 

Donut was no longer sweetly, coyingly stupid and buzzing around Simmons all the time: he had become a New Age instructor that preached the ideals of embracing The Feminine Energy Via Manicures, Baking, Ribbons, Feelings, Unicorns, Reality TV shows, and Annoying the Opposite Sex to the Brink of Suicide. Women all over the galaxy worshiped him and the fact that he while he lacked the appropriate genitalia, he was indeed a pussy. He was now giving video lectures twice a week via a web cam installed in Church’s face, and sometimes the one on his codpiece since Donut was indeed a cam whore that did soft core porn shoots to gain more publicity. 

Luckily, he was surprisingly hot enough that Church didn’t mind taking the photos and providing the feed for Donut’s rabid female fan following.

And speaking of porn, the trouble with Church-Net was that it was replacing masturbation as a leisure activity; meaning, Tucker was even more of a horn dog. Besides constantly checking bikini and nude photo of celebrities posted on a site called Egotastic.com and saving the perverted pics to Church’s internal hard drive, he was jacking off to some of the weirdest fetishes: women with their hands on their hips, clowns, balloons, and paraplegic stair climbing. In fact, masturbation was no longer a private activity.

Tucker would shamelessly grip his cock and beat away while sitting at the computer – meaning, Church – in front of everybody else – meaning, both the rest of the internet and anyone in line waiting to use it. It was scarring to the unsuspecting, but eventually the audience became desensitize, if they weren’t already from the sex and violence gleefully portrayed in the media since birth.

Church didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, since becoming the Internet and realizing his destiny as a digital entity, he had grown increasingly horny and would fuck or want to be fucked by anything and anybody at anytime.

“My body doesn’t matter,” Church said countless times to Simmons when the Red questioned him about his negative influence on the valley. “I can fuck all I want, and if my body breaks, Sarge’ll just build me a new one . He can’t go a day without checking on his NeoPets, making sure the Dark Faerie hasn’t killed them yet.”

“How the fuck do you know that Sarge is a NeoPets junkie?” Simmons wanted to know.

“Two words: browser history,” he said. “Oh, and I’m God.”

An aside: The only people Church hadn’t fucked yet were Sarge and Simmons. Sarge honest to Church said he didn’t “float like a butt fairy picking up weenie-meaty sticks just to shove them up my poop chute while hovering my sparkly-pinky-pants gay way down to Faggotville for my complimentary blow-job and Happy Meal.”

Simmons was pretty much saving himself for the one he love, and was shit out of luck.

“If you want, I’ll let you top,” Church offered Simmons once when he was being fixed on the roof again.

Simmons was cleaning the lenses on Church’s face-cam, which had been sprayed by some strange substance that the miserable Red could only surmise what it could be and to whom it belong to. “Fuck no,” he spat.

“You’re a virgin, huh?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” Simmons said defensively.

“You are, aren’t you?” Church was greatly amused as any computer could be at the idea of making some poor bastard less virgin-y. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle…Unless you’re like Sarge and don’t float that way, you fucking fairy.”

“It’s not that I’m against homosexual relations – dammit, it got in all the little cracks around the edges… Fucking Tucker,” Simmons said. “It’s just that I believe in saving yourself for someone you love or marriage or a life-or-death situation. Or Tequila parties that get a little out of hand.”

“What, you mean like a purity ring and that abstinence shit?”

“Fuck off, Church. It’s what I believe in.”

“Oh, so you’re against sex without marriage or some shit, but you don’t believe in God?” Church asked, a hint of play in his voice. “Fucking contradictory atheist virgin bastard ass-munch.”

“Will you shut the fuck up about that? I’m working here! Do you want me to cross the wrong wire and accidentally solder your bus lines off so that you can’t fucking feel your mechanical dick that Sarge installed for some unknown reason?” Simmons snapped, angry inside his helmet and simultaneously glad no-one could see the ugly snarl he was making. “And I’m not atheist… I’m agnostic.”

“What the fuck, Simmons? The only difference between atheists and agnostics is an extra syllable.”

“That’s not true, and they have same number of syllables, you moron!”

“Fuck it, I’m God,” Church told him. “It has different syllables because I say so.”

Simmons gave a deep sigh. “I give up.”

“But seriously,” Church began again after a lull in the conversation. “I’d be more than happy to be your first.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Taking your virginity by riding your sweet virgin ass all the way out of Virgin Town, that’s what I’m talking about…Crap, that made me sound like Tucker.”

Simmons ignored the Tucker comment. He wasn’t his teammate anyways. “Who said I was a virgin?”

“You did, when you were in the middle of not answering me when I asked ‘are you a virgin?’ earlier during this conversation.”

“But you didn’t ask me if I was a virgin,” Simmons said. 

“Yes I did, dickface! I said, verbatim, ‘You’re a virgin, huh?’” Church rattled off. “Fucking retard. I fucking asked you and you got all fucking defensive on me.”

“Why the fuck do you remember that so clearly when your internal clock has problems recording the date, and your hard drive can’t recall important data files?” Simmons asked. “I keep getting the error, ‘File not found.’ It’s fucking annoying because that means I have to do through and replace all the lost files with new copies, which takes all goddamned day.”

“I don’t know, and besides, it’s not like I’d tell you if I did know, numb nuts,” Church said. “Besides, God works in mysterious ways, and that means it’s on a Y.W.F.K.U.I.F.T.Y. basis.”

“Y.W.F.K.U.I.F.T.Y.?” Simmons repeated trying not to stumble over the acronym itself.

“You won’t fucking know until I fucking tell you,” Church clarified.

“But you just said you didn’t know, so how can you tell me something that you know when you don’t actually fucking know it?”

“You know what Simmons, fuck you and your virgin ass.”

It got super-duperly awkward after Church said that last line before saying, “You’re not really a virgin, are you?”

Simmons sighed needlessly, sadly. “…No, I’m not,” he admitted. “It’s…it’s a long story.”

“That’s fine. I like long stories. Have you seen the length of some of those fan fictions out on the net? Trust me, I’ve got the time.”

“You read fan fiction? Do you actually like reading it?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got the time.”

“No you fucking don’t. You’re just trying to change the subject so that you don’t have to tell me why you’re not really a virgin.”

“Well… the Red Team was celebrating our success at successfully calling you Blues douche bags and blowing shit up,” Simmons explained while keeping his hands busy by cleaning behind the lenses with a cotton ball dipped in rubbing alcohol. “and Sarge and Grif started drinking heavily.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Church said.

“I started drinking too—”

“Now that’s surprising.”

“—because Sarge told me to, and I didn’t want to disobey my senior officer.”

“Now that doesn’t surprise me.”

Simmons continued, “Things got out of hand, and I woke up in bed with both guys, completely naked.”

“Wait, you were the one naked? I’m asking because your sentence structure really sucked just now.”

“I meant we were all naked.”

Church fell silent for awhile. “….So what’s that mean then?”

“It’s means, I’m pretty sure I’m not a virgin,” Simmons told him. “But at the same time, I don’t really know. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember much of what happened last night, except, you know, the heavy drinking part. My head was pounding and fuzzy, I had a weird taste in my mouth, and my body was sticky and sweaty with bodily fluids that I’m pretty sure weren’t mine, seeing as I’m a cyborg and Grif has my sweat glands.”

“Simmons, I’m not gonna lie…That’s pretty fucking disgusting. Both the waking up naked part, and that Grif’s been sweating your sweat when we’re doing it.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “That’s why I don’t like talking about it.” There might have been some jealousy hidden deeply in that statement. “What’s even stranger, I’m not even sure which one I slept with… I’m a kiss-ass, as Grif likes to call me –”

“That’s true, no disputing that,” Church said. 

“Riiight. The thing is, I’d never actually want to physically kiss Sarge’s ass,” Simmons said.

“You’d rather kiss Grif’s instead?”

“Something like that.”

“You know, if you’re gonna kiss his ass, you might want to consider doing some other stuff while you’re on that end of the world.”

Simmons didn’t say anything and just continued to work on various things on Church’s body for the sake of keeping him maintained.

After his previous remark, Church seemed thoughtful, and perhaps even a little regretful if the computer parts of him could muster up an emotion like that. “Sorry I brought it up…,” he said. “Welp, since you don’t know if you’re really not a virgin or you are and you don’t know it, or whatever the fuck, you want me to do you and find out for sure?”

* * *

By some people’s definition, Agent Washington was a horrible boyfriend. How that was possible, nobody really knows. He was far more lenient than a lover should be, far more forgiving and understanding than a man was ever capable of being.

And yet he was.

Knowing that Church wasn’t exactly used to being the bottom in the relationship, Wash had prepared himself to look the other way regarding Church’s lurid affairs. The agent also had a very high libido that allowed another viewpoint for him to look at Church’s cheating. It wasn’t so bad when he remembered that he experienced those urges quite a while, urges pertaining to threesomes and double-sided dildos. 

However, Washington could be considered a stronger man that for the hope of commitment someday, he cut out all his extracurricular sexual activities and opted for one-sided monogamy.

“And that’s what happened.” Simmons had just finished telling Wash about his recent encounter with Church. He was once again was off on his own, reading a novel beneath a tree, waiting for the devil in question or others to come looking for him and demand their beloved internet be fixed. 

“I see,” Wash said, nodding sagely. “So all this time he’s been with Grif and a select few others… but Grif mostly.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s playing favorites.”

“I’ll assume that it bothers you to see them together?” Wash asked, sounding a bit like Delta with his choice of words.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Simmons’ voice cracked a bit on that statement. “’Cause you know, it doesn’t matter to me like it sounds like it does – ‘cause it doesn’t!”

“Not in the way you think it does,” the agent said. “….I’ve learned to share, but sometimes sharing him is dangerous to my health.”

Simmons closed his book and set it aside. He picked absentmindedly at blades of grass with his bored hands which would normally be inside Church fixing something on a regular basis. “If he keeps sleeping with other people, how do you plan on handling it? Will you break up?”

Wash sighed, then took a seat beside Simmons. “I’ve thought about it, and I’m positive that I would not be able to follow through. If we were to break up, it would be his choice and his choice alone,” he said. “Right now, Church is going through an overload of his systems. Filled with the terrifying knowledge and collective sexuality of the internet, he has been coping with his new existence by acting out.”

Wash couldn’t tell if Simmons really understood or not, but he figured that Simmons was probably one of the smartest people in the valley, at least, the smartest one on the Red Team – technologically speaking.

He continued to explain. “He is constantly aware of his connection to the internet. His body refuses to let him forget that he is a computer component after all, but his mind argues that he’s still human. That is true, but not in the way he wants it to be… That’s why we’ve got an outbreak of sexually transmitted diseases running rampant in these parts.”

“That’s just nasty,” Simmons said. “He’s going to kill everybody off just by having sex with them.”

“As I said before, sharing him is dangerous to my health,” Wash told him. “But I feel that abandoning him for the sake of self preservation is far for detrimental to my well-being…I’ve connected to him in more than a physical level, and I can tell you there’s no way I’d be willing to let him go.”

“You know, him being an A.I. and all that,” Simmons started to say, “he’s been inside a lot people even before he started fucking them.”

“Indeed,” Wash said. “I apologize for allowing ourselves to get sidetracked, but you mind telling me if he slept with you or not? I know I can’t stop him from continuing to have relations with the people he’s been involved with for the past month or so, but I’m willing to put in extra effort to prevent him from others forming.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Wash. He didn’t.” Simmons smiled sadly as he said, “Grif showed up right at that second before I could rebuff him, wondering if I was done yet so that they could go off and do something... Whatever.”

Wash caught on to something. “The entire situation bothers you…”

Simmons said nothing.

“I’m expecting you to correct me any moment now.”

Still nothing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wash asked him. “Not to pat myself on the back for being cheated on, but I’m probably the only in this valley that can help you through this.”

Simmons sighed his trademark sigh. “You’re right. You of all people have the right to be pissed about Church sleeping with Grif. Not me. I don’t have a right…”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Wash told him, popping his knuckles because the joints were feeling a little sore from the things he’d been through all these years. “You and Grif have always been together since you were assigned to Blood Gulch. You did everything together, not because you chose to, but because Sarge made you…and then it went from there. You both started seeking each other out when something needed to be done, and it wasn’t because Sarge told you to,” he said. “It was because you wanted to. You guys both actually care deeply about each other deep down, but you’re both too prideful to admit it to either yourself or one another. Tucker has even said that you two bicker like a married couple, and that he could tell how in love you were… He was said that you two never noticed it before.”

“Dammit, Wash! You barely know me, and here you are telling the truth without having to see it for yourself!”

“It’s my job to be well-researched and well-informed before venturing out on a mission,” he said. “Church says he hates how well-informed I am sometimes. Says it makes me a know-it-all.”

“Grif says the same thing about me… He always used to complain about me being a kiss-ass and a know-it –all…” Simmons sniffled with the sadness of not bickering with Grif as much anymore.

“He’d probably still complain about that if he wasn’t fucking my boyfriend.”

That made Simmons feel better. “Thanks, Wash. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who feels a bit jealous…”

“Don’t…” That wasn’t why the agent made that remark, but oh well. “Don’t kill yourself over it,” Wash said. “It’s perfectly all right to be feeling such emotions when it concerns the one you love.”

* * *

Lying naked in bed and smoking a cigarette, Grif started singing a nearly ancient song.

 _“The Show must go on!”_ He sang. _“The Show must go on! Inside my heart is breaking—”_ He flicked the ash to the floor. _“My make-up may be flaking, but my smile still staaaaays ooooon!”_

“Goddammit, Grif!” Church was also naked, and most definitely irate. “If you love him so goddamn much, why haven’t you slept with him yet? And why the fuck are you singing Queen? It’s not going to help you in your situation!”

Grif didn’t hesitate one bit. “It’s not that I haven’t slept with him yet.” He cut off Church’s remark so that he could elaborate. “He’s not interested in me like that,” he said. “Besides, there’s no way he’d be up for that kinda shit. Simmons doesn’t peg me as being a little, _y’know._ ”

“Well, I’m not _y’know_ ,” Church said. “I’m…a computer, and God….so, I guess that means by default I’m bisexual.”

“Hmmm.” The Red took a drag on his cig. “Guess that means I’m as bad as Donut.”

“I swear it’s the armor that makes him that way.”

Grif snubbed out that cig and started another one. “We’ve been together for so long. You’d think he’d offer up some sort of commitment.”

Church was sitting up now, barely covered by bundled up sheets, his chest glistening from Simmons’/Grif’s sweat from their combined sweat glands. “…the fuck? You guys aren’t even in a relationship, and you’re already asking for commitment? That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah, guess that is fucked up,” Grif said. “Hell, you wanna know what’s even more fucked up? I’m using you as a replacement. I also just told you that blatantly.”

Church smirked. “Duh, you think I didn’t already know that? I’ll admit we have some pretty hot sex, but that’s all we’ve got, you know, besides friendship.” He seemed a bit uncomfortable saying it that way so he added, “I guess.”

Grif dragged on the cig, thinking about Simmons’ lungs and how he was slowly killing them. He exhaled slowly through his mouth, puffs coming out of his nostrils, and watched the tendrils of smoke coil towards the ceiling. “Church, I’ll admit, I love having sex with you,” he said. “Really. You’re hot and can be a nice guy when you’re not being an asshole.” Still on his back, he kept his eyes on his lit nicotine stick as he twirled it around on his fingertips lightly to keep himself entertained. “Sometimes. Most of the time you’re just an asshole, so I guess that means my nice guy line doesn’t actually mean anything.”

“Gee, thanks. I just love hearing you say those kinds of things after spending the night with you,” Church said, trying not to sound bitter but absolutely trying to sound sarcastic as fuck.

Grif ignored him and continued on his little train of thought, following the carts along the track. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re awesome in bed,” he said. “However, as much as it’s fun with you, I think Simmons is better than you in the butt-fuck department. It was nice and rough and brimming with a complete lack of experience.”

“Grif, this conversation has traveled into several catagories of weird just now,” Church said. “I know for a fact you and Simmons never had anything going on physically speaking.” He stole a puff of Grif’s cigarette just because he felt like it.

“There was that one time. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember,” Grif said, looking fairly contemplative, which was totally beyond his nature since retrospective pondering took a lot of energy that he didn’t like to waste, energy that he proudly spent doing absolutely nothing. “And as you might have guess, alcohol was involved.”

* * *

Another maintenance session:

“Church, why do you keep doing this to me? No matter how many times I fix you, you break. So how about you do me a favor and stay broken? That way, I don’t have to fix you ever, ever again.”

“Dude, I know your name is Dick Simmons, but that doesn’t mean you need to be such a fucking dick,” Church bitched. “…Dick.”

“Pop up!” Donut suddenly appeared. “Oh no he didn’t, girlfriend! Mmm-mmm!”

“Shut-up Donut!” They said in unison.

“Pop gone.” 

Donut was now gone, leaving Church and Simmons to continue their bickering.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of Rabbit Hole. I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2009: References start here.
> 
> 2016: Jesus Christ. I'm sorry. I'm cringing at my old writing, but I must preserve this story as one of the few long-ish fics I've finished writing, no matter how terrible it came out. Once again, no beta aside from small edits I've made myself. Since it was originally published back in 2009 on rvb_slash, I left the wording of things untouched. I ask for mercy. This ride will be finished soon.

 

* * *

** G ** rif got a certificate the next mail call. It was from Cosmo, naming him the winner of the Sexy-Time Bachelor Vote-Off. He wasn’t sure what to really do with it since Church said he wasn’t sexy enough to win… Of course, the contest started before they seriously started fucking at least three times a day, but Church had even said…

Regardless, the certificate was promptly framed and hung up on the wall for all to see.

“Oh wow,” gushed Donut, admiring the golden lettering. “I had no idea you were the number one ranker! I came hard to you at least seven times after seeing you shirtless…”

“Um, Donut….”  Saying Grif was uncomfortable was an understatement. “You see me shirtless just about every day. Sarge requires that we all shower together to conserve water, which is pretty gay if you ask me.”

“Oh I know that. That’s why I love it.”

“So then why are you masturbating to me shirtless? Wait – let me rephrase that – why are you masturbating _to me_ – PERIOD?”

Donut looked at his comrade innocently. “Well, that’s what Simmons does, so I thought it was okay if I did it too since you were with Church and it wouldn’t have mattered if we were fantasizing about you together.”

“Dude, that’s fucked up –” Grif realized something – “Woah woah woah. Simmons does it too?” He paused. “How do you fucking know that? What are you, masturbation buddies?” He was starting to get angry. “Are you fuck buddies too? Please tell me you’re not fucking him…. Oh god, you’re probably masturbating fuck buddies…”

This entire conversation was pretty gay, but then again, so was most of the Red team. Grif didn’t care about the gay factor any more. It was now serious business when it was concerning Simmons’s virgin ass, an ass that actually wasn’t as virgin-y as the techie might have believed it to be, seeing as Grif took care of that particular issue last time he was on that end of the world when alcohol was involved.

Well, at least Grif had Simmons’ virginity. He could live with that, because technically Simmons had his, too, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Church.

Donut could see what was going on and started panicking. “No no no no! I’m not fucking Simmons,” he said, nearly pleading. “It’s just he told me he gets lonely when you’re not around when we talk sometimes, and I’ve overheard him doing stuff to himself when you’re not around. I especially hear it when he calls your name…”

Grif’s anger quickly vanished as his libido kicked in, his cock giving a twinge. “What…what kind of stuff?”

“Huh?”

“You know… what kind of stuff…does he do to himself when I’m not around?” The blood was really starting to flow downward. “Does he…” His face was turning red, his heart rate was rising, and he could definitely feel the crotch area of his armor fitting a bit more snugly as he thought about Simmons’ alone in the barracks. “uh, play with his ass or his balls or anything like that?” 

He didn’t mean for it to come out so graphic sounding, but damn he was making himself horny thinking about that Simmons doing that kind of shit!

“I don’t know,” Donut said honestly. “All I hear are noises, the usual – grunting, moaning, breathing heavily… the steady slap of his hand as he pounds his meat furiously, the slick audible squish of his own personal lube sliding down his cock as he works the head to a slippery, hot ---”

“OH GOD! I left something burning in the – whatever you leave stuff burning in!” 

Grif ran away as fast he could to the sanctity of a bathroom stall. He stripped down hastily but was furious with what had occurred.

He was no longer in need of the bathroom facilities to find release: he’d cum a bucket load inside his armor, drenching his boxers and lathering up the protective materials casing his body. He had achieved a miraculous orgasm without the use of his hand and with only his highly illustrative mind.

“Fuck,” he said.

So it goes.

* * *

A computer lets you make more mistakes faster than any invention in human history - with the possible exceptions of handguns and tequila. Church was all for people fucking up. It amused him so.

“As a computer,” he said to Simmons while getting some hardware replaced, “I find your faith in technology amusing.”

“That’s ironic,” Simmons said. “One, you’re actually an A.I., not a computer. Two, you need more hardware.”

“Fuck that,” he said. “God is a computer. I have commanded it so!”

Simmons went on with his explanation. “As a computer, you are a piece of technology… and as you keep claiming, you’re also god.” He was aiming for the ultimate kill – “so if you find the people’s faith amusing, it’s almost as if you can’t believe that they believe in you, which means you were never expecting them to in the first place.” He reattached some wires and hoped for the best that the signals hadn’t gotten crossed. “And thus, because of your own disbelief at people believing in you, God doesn’t exist.”

“GodDAMN it Simmons!”

“See, that’s funny.” Simmons was smiling triumphantly as he reset some of Church’s cycles to run at predetermined times so that he didn’t have to worry about it. “How can something that exists be damned by something that doesn’t?”

Church growled resentfully. “I hate you….”

“You shouldn’t hate me,” Simmons said, finishing up. “If you want to think about it, which knowing you that means you wouldn’t dare, I am the right hand of God… repairing you, delivering messages to others when you’re feeling lazy and you don’t want the accessing you for the night, tending to your physical world ailments… I’m your angel, Church. I’m fucking Michael.”

“Who the fuck is Michael!?” Grif has suddenly appeared like he was wont to do. “Is he that promotion you’ve been fucking for?”

“He’s an archangel, Grif,” Simmons told him. “Haven’t you read the Bible?”

“Not recently.” Grif took a swig of his beer. “Don’t really care for all that philosophical, thou-shalt-not-do-diddly-shit crap. Besides, Simmons, you’re an agnostic. What are you doing reading religious propaganda?”

“Keeping myself informed so I can defend my beliefs.”

“Pfft, defending what beliefs? By reading them passages from the Bible to further prove that God doesn’t exist? That’s real effective,” Church piped in. “That’s like a dad drinking his son’s milk and cookies and then telling him Santa doesn’t exist while he’s still wearing the suit on Christmas Eve.”

“Sounds like somebody had a bad childhood,” Grif said. “I will tell you this, I’d rather read the Bible and other religious stuff than try to stomach some of the slash fan fiction that’s on the internet. That stuff’s a biohazard.”

Nothing more was said.

* * *

Time was passing by slowly. Even month’s after Wash’s revelation, months after they’d all been reunited in Valhalla – which was kind of a metaphor for them dying and meeting each other in the afterlife – most everyone’s lives revolved around Church-net, and Simmons was getting tired of it.

“I’m getting tired of it,” Simmons said. “Everyone’s lives revolve around Church-net, and it’s getting annoying.”

“I know,” Washington said. They were seated under that same tree again. 

“And Church keeps offering me sex.”

“I know.”

“And I keep turning him down.”

“I know.”

“Is that all you know Wash?” Simmons wasn’t trying to be a dick, even though that was his name.

“No.” He finally said something other than ‘I know.’ “I know that this is going to end soon, and we can finally pick up living where we left off. That means we can finally meet up with the Chairman and get this all fixed.”

Simmons sighed. “That’ll take a miracle. The internet has basically erased everybody’s will to do anything else. Why talk to someone in person when you can instant message them? Why read a book when you can download it?” He picked up the hardcover novel he’d been reading before Washington sat down and sadly flipped through the pages. “ChurchNet’s ushering in a new age of illiteracy…Damn. The internet has taken their humanity…”

“It’s been like that for hundreds of years, Simmons,” Washington said. “The lot of them just haven’t been exposed to it until recently, and like a child with a new toy or new best friend, they want to spent every waking minute with it or he or she.”

“It’s a sad ordeal,” Simmons said. “I think I’m losing the will to live… I might off myself next Tuesday.”

“I know,” Wash said. He sat there nodding through the melancholic moment. It was all he could do. “I know.”

* * *

It didn’t make any sense. It happened almost suddenly, almost within the same short amount of time. Activity was slowing down, and an emptiness prevailed.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Church mused to himself. “Where the hell is everyone?”

Nobody was demanding to check their e-mail or MySpace or FaceBook. Not a soul was pushing him to let them look at some paraplegic stair climbing. No carbon-based life forms wanted to use Church to post naked pictures of themselves doing things with walnuts in orifices or check forums about cute puppies in funny costumes.

“Pop up! Hey, Church, if you’re so bored, how about we have a sex-date?” Donut was now there in front of him. “It’s a date we have sex on! At the same time! Sex-dates are saving the economy crisis as we speak!”

“Get the fuck away from me! I’ve already had sex with you, and I don’t plan on reliving the experience!”

“Aww, now you’ve hurt my feelings,” Donut said. “Pop gone.”

Donut was gone.

Church was now alone again, which he had just realized was the problem before Donut popped up.

“Dammit,” he said. That was all he could say, and it didn’t even properly sum up what he was feeling.

He decided now was the perfect time for some perfectly justified brooding. Church wandered himself over to a cliff that just happened to be there and stood on it, pondering himself and contemplating the river. 

This was something he hadn’t much time to do for half a year since everything became known to him and he was constantly receiving data and messages through the information highway nearly twenty-four-seven. Being the internet didn’t leave much space for introspection, and cyberspace wasn’t too kind for self-contemplation.

Now that everybody was doing something else, Church had discovered a gap in his life. He was alone, useless, unwanted, and forgotten. Ever since Command decided to send both sides some new equipment, which the shipment turned out to only be personal handheld devices with internet capabilities, nobody had a use for Church.

It was pretty depressing to go from being the most important thing in everybody’s life to being outdated and obsolete and left to rust. Okay, not rust, but that’s what it fucking felt like.

It was very much depressing, so depressingly so, Church wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with it.

Church’s current form of coping was in the form of standing there and watching water flow towards the ocean. How lovely, yes, but it didn’t help being useless, which Church was definitely not used to being.

* * *

Grif was wondering around on his own, and saw Church standing on a cliff looking down at the river. He was clearly in the middle of not doing anything in particular. Grif came up on the cliff to stand next to him and told him what was up.

“We’re over.”

Church didn’t look at him. “Were we ever even on?”

“I just wanted to say, that I’m done,” he said. “I think I’m crazy and that I might be doing something stupid, but I’m tired of having sex with someone I don’t care about and I think it’s time I do something about that.”

“So you’ve made up your mind?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s time to tell him the truth and start things over.”

“And here I thought you were always going to be a lazy bastard.”

“I’m not changing, Church. I just accidentally drank an energy drink because I thought it was Mountain Dew and I figured since I have burst of energy, I might want to break up with you and go look for Simmons before I get tired again and want to take a seven-hour nap.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Church said. “As if I wasn’t already depressed.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not using the BlueBerry Sarge tried to give me. I told him I don’t need one of those to know what’s going on with the Internet.”

Church gave a snarl towards Grif, actually looking at him now. “That’s waaaay too fucking sweet of you…What the hell is a BlueBerry?”

“It’s a knock-off of a BlackBerry. Cheaper and once they break you can’t fix ‘em.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Been fun fucking with ya and fucking ya, Church.” Grif reached over and gave him a one-armed buddy-buddy hug that nobody would have taken as slash. “And good luck with trying to commit suicide. I heard that’s kinda hard when you’re not even human.”

“That’s real fucking sensitive, Grif.”

“My pleasure.” The Red gave him a quirky smile behind the visor of helmet, and took off to find Simmons.

* * *

To mimic Shakespearean practices, a chorus is to be included here for no practical reason except that it feels like there should be one at this time. Regarding the story:  _There wasn’t much else to be done. It was all quickly coming to an end. Very soon it would all be over and life could continue to be the thing that people lived which consisted of shitty things like love and friendship and eight hours of sleep, instead of website hawking and status updates and free video-streamed pornography._

So it goes.

* * *


	4. PART 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2009 Notes:  This is the final bit.  Rereading it last night, I added a lot more to it.  In fact, the sex scene orginally wasn't there, but I was in the mood for that sort of thing. xD    The jokes reach their all-time "WTF" mode with my discussion of certain questions and what the answer is for those three.  Also, the Director is not spared of this madness and he's probably voicing the collective opinion of this story held by many who read it.  
> 
> 2016: IT'S OVER IT'S FINALLY OVER all this formatting hell of me trying to back-up my fic on AO3. FUCKING CHRIST KILL ME I cringe so hard at my own writing, and even though I was writing crack fic with a farce story telling frame in mind, I still cringe so hard at times scrolling back through this. The wording is, sadly, preserved because there's no way I could write this like I did back in 2009 and I don't want to destroy my relic. Minor edits, still no Beta. However, this overall project of all my Cracked Verse stuff collected on here has somewhat reinspired me to go back and watch the show, finish the series, and write some more updated Cracked Verse because I still love Wash/Church 7 years later...

 

* * *

 

 **T** he end began with a tree. It was a lovely tree, simple and simply green.    It provided simple comfort and simple shade in a complex universe and a complex situation. Simmons found the tree to be his closest best friend, next to Wash, who was sitting to next to him beneath his tree-best friend.

“Well, it’s Tuesday,” Wash said. “Are you planning on committing suicide any time soon?”

Simmons had read the same paragraph of that same literary novel four times in that same minute, which wasn’t anything new because every time he sat down to read that same book, Wash always sat down with him and they got to talking. 

“Are you rushing me?”

“No, just checking on how much longer I have to be on suicide watch, if you’re being serious at all this time. You mentioned committing suicide a couple of other times in the past. Can’t let this one go unnoticed. It might end badly.”

“What, you don’t want me killing myself?”

“You think I would?” Simmons could barely see that Wash’s eyebrow popped up, hidden behind the glare of day star’s rays screaming off the helmet. “What kind of a guy would I be if I just let you kill yourself? Not a very good one.” he said. “Bottom line is, don’t kill yourself. There are plenty of other opportunities for you to die in other ways that don’t involve you hurting yourself.”

Simmons sighed, just like Wash was expecting him to. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a soldier. I should just die like everybody else.”

“Good boy.”

“…Think anybody would miss me?”

Wash caught something coming towards them from the corner of his eye. “That’s a tough question, but why don’t you ask Grif?” He was avoiding the question.

“Ask me what?”

“—Jesus!” Simmons jerked up suddenly, his book nearly torn in half from his startlement. “What the fuck, Grif?”

“I should be asking you the same thing, Simmons,” Grif said, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re talking about committing suicide and Donut’s not involved this time. There is now something officially wrong with you.”

“ _Now_ there’s something wrong with him? There was something wrong with him before he even said anything about killing himself,” Wash put in, now standing up from his favorite spot under the tree which was marked from his butt sitting on it for too long. “I’ll leave you two alone. Got some business to take care of….”

Whether there was actual business to be taken care of or what didn’t really matter because Agent Washington had missed his true calling in life as a ninja. He would have made one hell of a ninja. Everybody always told them that. Oh well.

He was gone within seconds, almost like vapors wafting from the nearby ocean.

It was just Simmons and Grif now. Silence. Staring. After that, two more minutes of silence combined with two more minutes of staring. 

“Mind if I sit down next to you?” Grif asked, politely – what the hell happened to him? Since when did Grif know manners?

“Not in particular,” Simmons said, inwardly freaking about Grif new manners-related mannerisms. He had given up a long time ago on ever finishing that literary novel, so he just closed it and put it behind him for now.

Grif sat down in Wash’s spot, sitting perhaps a little closer to Simmons than Wash had ever sat.

“Sooooo…” Simmons was tired of the silence. “Catch any new STDs these days?”

“Still clean as far as I know,” Grif said. “I’ll get tested since I’m not planning on getting sick in my dangly bits.”

“…the hell? Dangly bits…? Grif, I’m slightly disturbed by your choice of words.”

“There’s a lot more you’re going to be disturbed by, so don’t let that end you just yet.”

“Is this some kind of we-need-to-talk-thing?”

“Yep, and if this were one of those crappy romance novels you pretend you don’t read when nobody’s around,” Grif said. His gaze was towards the ocean, the melting sunset yolk shimmering its beautiful death on his tinted visor. “This is the part where we talk everything out, the guy asks the chick if she wants to get hitched, and they live happily ever after.”

“You’re not going to ask me to marry you.”

“Don’t think that just yet,” he said. “We aren’t done talking everything out yet.”

* * *

There it was again – that flippy thing in Simmons’ heart. It happened when Grif started talking about him ending his not-relationship with Church, when Grif talked about the romance novel thing again, and now it was flippy-floppy over what else was being said.

“Let’s start from the beginning, I want to get this out in the open as soon as possible.” Grif stated with great purpose, having relaxed enough to rest on his palms and lean back to look at the stars.

“’Kay.” Simmons was still incredibly tensed and hadn’t relaxed in over an hour. His hunches were going numb.

“I doubt it, but do you remember the night you got seriously smashed with me and Sarge?”

“Bits and pieces, yeah.” Simmons was inwardly panicking. “I remember quite a few things, actually.”

“Well…it was me.”

“Huh?”

“Church told me,” Grif said. “He said that you weren’t sure if you got laid or not, but that you thought you did…The answer is yes. It was me.”

If it were humanly possible, Simmons was now choking on air. Since he was only half-human and half-robotic thing, the robotic thing part of him made it perfectly possible to choke on air. Which he was. Hard. 

Grif slapped his buddy-love on the back until Simmons was breathing somewhat normally. “You okay?”

“Fuck no! You just told me that I fucked you!”

“Other way around, actually.”

“WHAT?! Are you fucking serious?”

“Am I fucking serious that I fucked you? Fuck yeah.”

“What the fucking fuck? Grif, that’s – that’s – I don’t even know what _that_ is!” Simmons, although no longer choking on air, was now hyperventilating and very, very neurotic-seeming. “That doesn’t…” His vision was starting to darken, dark spots frolicking like sugar-crazed faeries across his eyelids as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Simmons lay down in the grass.   He realized he was having a panic attack, and, not panicking any further over the current situation,  steadied himself. 

He asked calmly, “Grif, if you’re the one that fucked me, why was Sarge naked too?”

Simmons couldn’t see Grif shrugging and lighting a cigarette at the same time. “He walked in on us and thought we were wrestling in the nude so he stripped down and decided to join in. He wasn’t too successful at that,” he explained. “I finished you off, I finished inside you, and Sarge charged headlong into the wall above our heads and was knocked unconscious.” He inhaled a relaxing dose of nicotine, savored it deep in Simmons’ alveolar sacs, and exhaled. “You and I fell asleep shortly afterward.”

Simmons had calmed down and could now speak without worrying about passing out from a panic attack. The stars above him were pacifying delights; they were serene and watchful angels above that he totally forgot could have been alien mother ships waiting to descend upon them. “How do you remember all this? You were hammered, but then again, so was I….”

“I have a much stronger alcohol tolerance than I like to demonstrate,” Grif said. “I was fake-drunk that night, but I was still buzzed.”

“My god, you’re killing my lungs and liver, you bastard! And here I lovingly donated those to you…”

“Lovingly? So you admit it?”

Simmons at up fast, giving himself head rush. “What? What am I admitting to?”

“You know.” Grif took in another puff of cytocidal fumes. “The L-Word.”

Simmons absentmindedly picked at the blades of grass poking out from underneath his folded knees. “…Grif, something’s not right.”

“Hey man, if you’ve got a problem with being in love with another guy, that’s not my problem,” Grif said, hoping to make a preemptive strike. “You need to take responsibility for it.”

“No, Grif, I’m not talking about that,” he said. He flicked the grass at Grif’s shiny, armored leg. “Well, since I know no other way to bring this up, I’ll just do it straight.” He stopped himself from indulging in his habitual sigh. “Are you in love with me? Just like that? It’s too convenient… I don’t believe it. Can’t. You’re with Church, now you’re not, so now you want what we’ve never had in the first place. Something’s off.”

It was Grif’s turn to choke this time, this time on death smoke. He angrily crushed his cig on his boot tread. “Hey, I’m trying here! How the hell do you expect me to do this correctly when my only experience regarding a male-male intimate relationship is drunken, meaningful buttsex with a guy I could never actually admit anything to, followed by souless fucking with an A.I. that’s not even really a guy? Have you any idea how seriously fucked up this is for me?”

Simmons didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Multiple mental processes were whirring through his head all at once. He didn’t believe what he was hearing, even though he inherently knew it was the truth because of how well he knew Grif. 

Fuck.

Was he supposed to make a decision because of Grif’s half-assed love confession? He had no fucking clue _._

Fuck fuck, _fuckity_ fuck fuck.

And now, once more for good measure: _FUCK_!

* * *

Fucking seemed like the answer for a lot of things.   Such questions would be some of the following: 

_Q.    How does one go about world domination?_

**A**.     Fucking everybody who’s important to your cause.

 _Q. How much orange juice should you put in a diet protein shake specially made for dieting?  
_ **A.** Fuck the fruit, then recycle the juice left over from your liquid love. The amount should be sufficient.

 _Q. How do you fix a broken relationship with the one you truly love after you’ve gone and fucked it up by fucking everybody else but the one you truly love?  
_ **A.**  Apologize while he’s fucking your ass hard and unrelenting.

That’s what Church did. He waited for his moment, watched as Grif went to Simmons and Wash got up to leave, and made his move. He intercepted the agent in an uncharacteristically polite manner, and they went into Blue base for a chat. The chat took place in Church’s room.

The chat allowed for Church to finally get some things off his chest. The chat allowed for Wash to curse and cry and laugh and loathe. The chat was the perfect moment to accept the things that were in the past, to accept that sometimes, as perfect as He might be, God fucks up too. Get over it.

Church had royally fucked and fucked up many times, before and after his God-mode. 

After a lot of other things brought up and sorted through in the conversation, he went to the main idea. “I’m such an ass,” he said in confidence with Wash during that chat. The sun had long set and they were still chatting. “I’ve had such a fucking power charge off being God and the Internet. Being important just made me feel…”

“Important?” Wash finished for him.

“I was avoiding sounding redundant, but I’ll go with that.”

“It works for me.”

“So… do you want the long version, or the short version of what I’m about to tell you?”

“You should know me enough to know how I want it.”

“Well, the short version is: I fucked up, I’m done fucking around, and I fucking love you.” He paused, perhaps to let what he had just said really sink in or maybe he just wanted to be dramatic. It was highly probable that he paused for both reasons, for it truly was a dramatic thing to say. “How’s that for simple?”

Wash was smirking when he took his helmet off. He ruffled his hair free of helmet-hair, and set the thing aside. “That’s it? That’s all you wanted to say?”

Church took his helmet off in a hurry that belied a snatch of angry. “Hey, fuck off! I just told you that I love you. That shit isn’t easy!”

“Right,” Wash said. “I love you, too. But that’s not what I’m aggravated about.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“As soon as everybody ignores you, you come crawling back to me. You’ve hurt me, Church. You betrayed me, and you know what I do with traitors.”  Washington’s gruff voice became darker, an edge of an even greater darkness bordering his tone. “I don’t let them get off easy.”

Church felt like shit, but he was trying. “Look, I’m sorry that I fucked around behind your back and that you had to go to Simmons to find out what was going on,” he said. “You could’ve broken up with me, but you didn’t. You stayed, despite me being a cheating bastard.”

“Me staying has nothing to do with this,” Wash said, eyebrows sharp. “I told you I won’t let you get off easy, and I intend on keeping my promise.”

“Jesus, you sound like you’re going to murder me.”

“Not murder you, just hurt you…  You know, at some point I had considered sleeping with Simmons to revenge cheat, but I decided not to.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m a bigger man than that.”

Church had a pervy smile. “Yeah, Grif told me about Simmons’ being average.”

Wash’s encased hands ran through his limp light hair hanging in front of his eyes, still weird-looking from the helmet suffocation. “So we’re done here,” he said.

“…WHAT?” Church’s panic gear shifted into high.

“Done talking, I mean.”

Church’s panic gear shifted low. “Now what?”

Wash stood from the bed and started working latches to get his armor off. “I’m going to accept your apology, pretend all of this Internet-God-fucking business never happened, say I love you, and keep my promise. Right here. Right now.” His pants dropped, and his erection met the night air. “With my dick.”

And that’s exactly how it happened. It was bullet-shot fast –

Wash managed to get Church naked and on the bed before he commenced with the angriest bout of angry-hate sex in all of human history. Making sure to keep his promise of not letting him get off easy, Wash teased and lapped at Church until his cock throbbed in brutal pain, stopping before he blew his load. He repeated the process – teased and stopped, teased and stopped, deep throated and stopped – and then went on to tearing up that ass: a rough animalistic fucking, the rage and hurt and angst burning through his being into Church’s, leaving bloody marks on his skin, on his insides. 

Inflicting pain was hot, empowering.

Wash pulled hair near the root, bit down on flesh until strange bruises formed on the synthetic skin, raked fingernails all over the other man, yanked at Church’s cock without gentleness and care.   He allowed himself to be devoured by the rage and jealousy, by the hurt and neglected love boiling hotly inside him. He was overcome with so many emotions, so many sensations, he was afraid of igniting from the emotional, sexual overload.

He wanted Church to remember who he first belonged to before he went astray. He loved him so goddamned much, he was blazing with passion and it threatened to swallow him whole. To make him think about that, Wash never let him come.

Church loved every minute of it, loved that this love between him and Wash was hot like hellfire, but pretended that it was a painful punishment to endure just to make sure that Wash didn’t stay mad at him. Out of all the people he fucked, nobody gave rough jealousy sex quite like Agent Washington.

With a substantial piece of man meat making easy and nearly bloody work of his raw colon, Church pleaded and apologized until his throat was just as red and raw and well-loved as his ass.

* * *

They were staring at the glittering mother ships in the sky, waiting for the aliens to probe them in the name of science and misery. Until then, Grif was happy just seeing Simmons not freaking out.

“So you’re not freaking out?”

“Should I be?”

Grif resisted the urge to turn his head to the side and gaze at Simmons, not wanting to make this important relationship minute more sappy than was really necessary. “Dude, I just told you I love you. I’m surprised you’re not freaking out.”

Simmons shrugged – sort of – which was kind of difficult lying on his back and looking at the stars peeking out through the tree branches over head. “I’m glad,” he said, “that you finally realized it.”

“It took fucking forever,” Grif said. 

“Tell me about it.” Simmons sat up and made to stand up, grabbing his book. “Let’s get going.”

Grif nodded solemnly, and stood up, too.

They left the fate tree behind them, walking in step back to the base.

* * *

“By the way, Grif,” Simmons said once they were inside and nobody was around. “I… love you, too.”

And that was that.

* * *

The outcomes of the others went like this:

 Tucker found out that his on-line girlfriend was actually a man named Charles; oddly, he was okay with this and never told anybody about his shocking revelation. 

Caboose had no idea what was really going on with everybody else. He was too busy hoping Santa Claus would bring him a puppy this year.

Sarge avoided the madness by taking care of his NeoPets in secret via his BlueBerry, which broke three weeks later. He repaired it, and named it Larry. Larry then promptly committed suicide.

Lopez was happy for this, and wished that he, too, could commit suicide. Sadly, he did not.

Donut, along with all his other projects, made a living as a living pop-up ad and continued to ruin romantic moments between the rest of his teammates.

As for the couples, Church and Wash were together, but not in a happy-fluffy way.   Wash made sure that Church suffered for what he put him through with more angry-love-hate-jealousy sex; Church didn’t mind in the slightest. His days as the Internet were done, but he wasn’t letting go of his God-mode. This would be happening for many months to come while they worked out the rest of their problems and tried hardest at this shot of love.

Simmons and Grif had lots of problems with love and such. They still argued and spent time debating issues back and forth, and Sarge spent most of that time trying to kill Grif as usual. This time, though, Simmons didn’t help out. He was too busy trying to make the sex with Grif not as awkward and to make himself comfortable with the idea of kissing the guy on a daily basis. It was very stressful, but he enjoyed it.

Grif also managed to propose to Simmons in front of everybody, just like he promised he would  because of the sucktacular romantic comedy that was their life.

 He is still in a blunt-force induced coma at the date of this writing.

So it goes.

* * *

And that’s how it all ended. Kind of.

 Washington ended up writing a detailed report to the Chairman, and through some technological tricks and advanced hacking such as frying the keyboard with coffee, the Director had gotten a hold of it.

He read through all the events, all the way up to the happily-ever-after-buttsex parties. Read the part about God and the Internet. Mused over all the curse words and seemingly endless repetition. His emotional response to the story he had just finished reading was quickly distilled into one key combination of words:

“…What the fuck…?”

* * *

The End, perhaps....

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;I own nothing but the words and situations I control.  
> First time writing for RvB.  
> 2009.  
> COMPLETE.

**Author's Note:**

> ;I own nothing but the words and situations I control.  
> First time writing for RVB.


End file.
